Ed Calls Winry
by HagarenKokoro
Summary: Ed is trapped in Germany, seperated from Al and Winry. Until one day, he calls Winry for the first time - and the call goes through. After two years apart, what will they have to talk about? Will they see each other again? EdXWin romance. A first kiss.
1. Chapter 1

**[ Hey, everybody! This Fanfic takes place during the Conqueror of Shamballa movie. Edward is trapped on the other side of the gate with Alfonse Heiderich and Noa (who doesn't make an appearance.) Everything that happens in the movie is happening in the background – just off-camera. It's been a while since I watched the movie so the dialogue and action doesn't match exactly – but I hope you enjoy it anyway.]**

**(Ed Calls Winry)**

Edward flicked on the lamp. The room was dark and cold, but he didn't feel he had the right to complain. He slumped onto the bed, fully clothed, with his boots and coat on. Everything was cold. The sheets, the pillow, the frost on the windowpane…the room was like a silent grave. More like a death chamber than a place for someone to stay.

He thought of Al. He thought of golden-brown eyes and blonde hair, of the way Al used to cross his arms and pout when he was a little boy. It had been a long time since Edward had seen him do that. It was harder to pout when you were over six feet tall and in a suit of armor. He remembered how Al used to stay up late into the night, writing in that journal of his. Edward wondered if Al was finally getting to eat all the food he had dreamed of eating.

He thought of Winry. He had used to hate it when Winry fixed his automail because he didn't like sitting still, and he didn't like getting lectured about automail maintenance. But now he missed it. Edward couldn't feel it when people touched his automail, but sometimes Winry's fingers would brush the skin on his shoulder, or the side of his chest. She used to hit him over the head whenever he would fidget. He could definitely feel that.

Once Winry had brushed the hair off his neck and pointed to a small scar on his collarbone. It was a new one, one that hadn't been there before. She had asked about it, but Edward refused to say. After that she had stopped asking about his scars. But she still had that habit of putting her hand on his back while she adjusted his automail.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and put a hand over his face, blocking out the light coming from the lamp. Something was clawing at the inside of his chest, trying to get out. He gritted his teeth and held it in.

The phone rang. Edward hadn't even realized there was a phone in his room, but when he opened the desk drawer, he found it sitting there, ringing like an annoying little bug. Edward stared at it for a few minutes, and when it didn't stop, he answered it.

"Yes?"

It was a man who called himself Alfonse Heiderich's doctor, saying that Alfonse needed to come and pick up his medication tomorrow. Edward took the message and the man's phone number and then hung up. He was about to lie back down when he realized what the doctor had said. Medication? Did that have something to do with Alfonse's coughing? He decided to call the doctor back and figure out what was wrong with Alfonse.

Edward dialed the number. The phone had just started to ring when he realized he'd put in the wrong number entirely.

He had dialed Winry's number. His fingers had somehow done this naturally, and without him noticing, almost as if this were just a normal night and he had decided to call up Winry. This is what he'd meant about his brain being a step behind. Living in the past. This wasn't healthy.

"Rockbell Auto-Mail Shop, how can I help you?"

He could hardly hear anything, the blood was pounding so loudly in his ears. He stared at the phone as if it had bitten him. He set the phone lightly down on the nightstand – against the wood, so it didn't hang up. Then he paced in a tight circle around his room. He went back to the phone, picked it up. His throat was dry.

"Win…ry?"

There was a gasp on the other line. The sound was distinctly female. She had hardly said anything, but he recognized her voice. He recognized the sound of her dropping the phone. He recognized the sound of her scrambling to pick it up. And he recognized the sound of her scream.

"YOU IDIOT!"

"Winry," he said.

"YOU ARE THE BIGGEST MORON ON THE PLANET!"

"Winry." He closed his eyes, felt the cold of the phone against his cheek.

She was crying now. He could hear it in her voice. She said his name, quietly, like a whisper, like a breath of air. "Edward."

"Winry." He couldn't stop saying it. Her name. That feeling was pounding in his chest again; that breathless, dizzying, overwhelming feeling. But it wasn't pain in his chest anymore. It was something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I knew you were alive. I knew it. I always have." She paused. "But I know it can't possibly be you. Because the Edward Elric I know has never once picked up a phone to call me. Not once in his life, no matter how many times I begged."

He was grinning now. He wished she could see it. "Sometimes things change."

"Oh, Ed." In his mind's eye he could see her blue eyes shining with color, the tears sliding down her face, and the way her bangs fell across her forehead. He had seen her cry enough times in the past to know exactly what it looked like. "Ed, is this really happening?" she asked. "Am I really talking to you?"

"Yes, it's really happening." He sat down on the bed, phone firmly clutched in his hand. "I just…I dialed your number and this happened."

"I find that hard to believe," she laughed.

"Me, too." They laughed together. Then he stopped. "How…how have you been?"

There was a long silence. He could hear Winry take a deep breath. "I miss you."

Edward said nothing. He closed his eyes and nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see.


	2. Chapter 2

"How long is this going to take?" asked Edward.

Alfonse walked up to the counter, talked to the woman for a few minutes, and came back holding a white medicine bottle. "We're done," he said.

"What? Already?" asked Edward. He stood up and grabbed his brown coat. He pulled it over his shoulders and followed Alfonse out of the hospital.

"Yes," laughed Alfonse. "It's just a prescription. You walk in, pick it up, and then you leave. Sorry to drag you along, but you're the only one who knows how to drive."

They walked over to the car and climbed in. Edward sat in the driver's seat and started the car. He pulled out into the street, tugging the steering wheel lightly with each curve in the road.

"Ed, you missed the turn."

"What?" He slammed on the brakes and did an illegal U-Turn, prompting other drivers to honk and send him rude gestures. Edward ignored it, as always. "Sorry, Alfonse. I wasn't paying attention." He had been completely lost in his own thoughts. "I didn't get much sleep last night," he added.

Alfonse propped his feet up on the dashboard. "How come?"

"I – " Edward glanced over at Alfonse. He didn't know whether to tell him or not. Knowing Alphonse, he would probably tease him mercilessly. Then he realized that Alfonse could probably see the truth written across his face anyway.

"I talked to Winry last night," he said.

A strange look crossed Alfonse's face. "How is that possible?" he asked.

"I called her…on the phone. It was an accident. But then she answered."

"How do you know it was her?" He pulled his legs off the dashboard and sat up straighter, suddenly attentive. "What if it was a different woman? What if you called a random woman in the city?"

"Come on!" said Edward. "I think I would know Winry's voice. I talked to her all night. She said my brother is still alive. She said Al grew his hair long, and he wears a red coat now. It's been three years, and he's still looking for me." Edward sighed. "It's amazing. And now that I think about it, he's older, too. He's actually – wow – he'd be about seventeen-years-old, right?" The thought stopped him cold. It felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper against his insides.

To think, that after all these years, he had expected his brother to stay the same age. The idea was ridiculous. Of course Al would get older. Of course he would grow and get taller and change the way he looked. So why did it hurt so much, this idea of his brother growing up without him? To Edward, Resembol was a place of memories. Memories didn't change. But reality did. Alphonse Elric was not the same person he had been three years ago. Winry had probably changed, too. Maybe she was married. She was an eighteen-year-old woman. How could she not be married? Why hadn't he thought to ask her?

The thought hit him hard, like a blow to the chest. Things would not be the same. The world was moving on without him. And Edward, in his eighteen-year-old body – but stuck in his fifteen-year-old mind – was being left behind.


	3. Chapter 3

"Going to talk to that girl?" asked Alfonse.

Edward froze on the staircase. He was headed up to his room. He was annoyed at the taunting sound in Alfonse's voice. "Shut up. It might not even work. Maybe it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I don't even know if the call will go through."

"Maybe it was all in your head?" asked Alfonse.

Edward frowned, gave him a fake salute, and went upstairs. He closed himself in his room and grabbed the phone out of the desk drawer. The room was just as cold as before, and his bed sheets were a tangled mess.

He slowly dialed the number. His heart was tied up in knots and his hands were wet and clammy. He was afraid it wouldn't work. If it didn't work, he didn't know what he would do. Things were worse now because now he had hope. And as long as he had hope, his hopes could be dashed. And that would send him spiraling into a deeper despair, one he knew he would never rise out of.

He could hear ringing. It was sharp and painful to his ears. And then – click. Someone had picked up.

Edward had been holding his breath, but now he let it out in a whoosh. He could hear Den, the dog, barking.

"Den, stop it! It's just Edward. Stop barking. Granny, could you get him?" There was a pause, and then, "Edward, are you still there?"

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked. "Anyone else could be calling."

"I just knew," she said. Her voice was soft. Edward was surprised, once again, at how nice she was being. Things are changing, he reminded himself.

"Edward…"

Why was she using his full name? Usually she just called him Ed. "What?" he asked.

"Where are you, exactly?"

It occurred to him that he hadn't told her. About this place. The other side of the gate. It was probably because he didn't want to think about it. He certainly didn't want to talk about it. "I'm – I'm not in Amestris anymore."

"I know that."

"In fact, I'm nowhere near Amestris."

Her voice was wavering. "I figured as much."

"It's – " he started to pace around the room, " – it's called Germany?"

"I've never heard of it." She wasn't crying, but there was a layer of heavy sadness to her voice that stung at Edward like salt in a wound. He never wanted to hear that sound from Winry again. When they were little, it had always been his job to protect her and keep her safe. He wished he could put a hand on her head and tell her it was going to be all right. To think that he was the one making her cry. What a bastard he was.

"Don't cry," he said, firmly. "Don't cry, all right?"

The door clicked open. Alfonse Heiderich stood there. He held his hand out, asking for the phone. When Edward refused to give it to him, Alfonse hit him on the head and grabbed the phone out of his hand.

"Hello? Are you Winry?" said Alfonse, speaking rapidly. "Okay, Edward seems to believe that you're real, but I think you could be any random girl off the street. Ha ha, I don't believe you. Okay, let me ask you some questions. Where do you live?" There was a pause. "Okay. What's your grandmother's maiden name?" Another pause. "All right, Edward said the same thing. I guess he gave you the basic facts. But here's a question he didn't expect – what color are Edward's boxers?"

"Dumbass!" said Edward, rubbing his head. "How the hell is she supposed to know that? Gimme back that phone – "

Edward tried to wrestle the phone from him. Alfonse swatted him away, laughing. Edward could hear the faint buzz of Winry speaking on the other end.

"Uh-huh," said Alfonse. "Yes, I know you haven't seen him in a while – "

"A while? Try three years, genius!" said Edward.

" – but just based on your past experiences working on his automail…uh-huh. Yeah. Oh, really?" Alfonse's face split into a grin. "That's your guess, huh? Let me check."

Before he could react, Alfonse grabbed the waistband of Edward's slacks and pulled it down just an inch. There was the tiniest flash of black material beneath the brown pants. Then Edward shoved Alfonse away, roughly.

"Just give me back the phone, you bastard – "

Alfonse ignored him, listening to the voice on the phone. "Yes, black is right. Okay, I believe you. You're the real deal. You're the Winry Rockbell, the girl from all of Edward's stories. Yes, he talks about you all the time. Is it true you broke his nose? Ha ha. How'd it happen?"

Edward watched, stunned, as Alfonse chatted with Winry. After a few minutes, Alfonse said, "Well, Edward is giving me this look that clearly says to get off the phone. I think he doesn't want me to talk to you. Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you guys have a lot to talk about. It was nice meeting you. I hope things are going well in Resembol. All right, here you go." He handed the phone to Edward. "Wow, she's great," he said. "What a personality! And you were wrong – she didn't threaten to beat me up once. I think she only does that you."

Alfonse gave him a little wave and left the room.

Edward slowly lifted the phone to his ear. "Did you hear all that?"

"Yes," Winry said. "Ed, how come when you tell other people about me, you make me out to be a big, mean, thug?" Her voice rose in anger.

"I don't say that! Maybe that's just how they interpret it!" he said, his voice rising, too. "You're the one who's always hitting me!"

"Oh, get over it, shorty!"


	4. Chapter 4

"I'M NOT SHORT!" said Edward. Then he lowered his voice. "Actually, no one's called me that in a long time. This is the first time I've heard it since…that day."

She was silent. The silence stretched on for so long that Edward was worried she'd hung up.

"No one's called you "shorty"? Ed, are you telling me – you've gotten taller?" Her voice was utterly disbelieving.

"Well, yeah," he said. "Yeah, Winry, of course."

She was silent again. Edward remembered his surprise at hearing about Al, and realized that maybe – just maybe – Winry had expected things to stay the same, too.

"Winry, what did you expect me to look like?" he asked, incredulous. "Short, red coat, white gloves…is that what you think I look like?"

"Yes!" she squeaked. "That's exactly what I imagined. Black pants, clunky boots, and hair pulled back into a braid…"

He laughed. He laughed so hard that her voice trailed off, leaving her silent again.

"Shut up, Ed!" she cried. "Like you're one to talk! What do you think I look like? Huh?"

The question threw him. He scrambled for an answer. "Blonde hair."

"Yes, moron. Now think of something else."

"Um, ponytail?"

"Ha ha, no! Try again."

"Thin hips, scrawny legs, wearing an old jumpsuit and a red bandana – "

"No, Ed! You make me sound like a troll. And I don't have thin hips or scrawny legs."

Edward was flustered. He could feel himself starting to blush. "You did last time I saw you."

"Not anymore."

There was a horrible moment where Edward tried to imagine it and his mind drew a blank. He had no idea what Winry looked like. This thought bothered him deeply. He felt like he was talking to a disembodied, floating voice.

"Here, I'll help you out," said Winry. "I'll tell you what I look like, and you tell me about you."

"All right."

"I still have long blonde hair," she began. "But now I pile it in a bun on top of my head. I think it makes me look older. And I don't wear that ratty jumpsuit anymore. I guess I wear more girly stuff. Like pink and purple. And I do not have thin hips. I have very nice hips."

"Uh, okay," he said. Now he could see her. He had a picture of her in his mind. It was different than the old one, but she still looked like Winry. But – very nice hips? What was that supposed to mean? He felt himself blushing, although he didn't know why.

"What about you?" Winry asked.

"Um." He frowned and looked down at himself. "Legs, torso, arms, face – "

"C'mon, Edward! I haven't seen you in a long time. I want to know what you look like."

He sighed and sat down on the bed "Right now I'm wearing brown slacks with – "

"Black boxers."

"Shut up! I don't even know why he asked you that!"

She was laughing. And even though she was laughing at him, it was a nice sound. "I don't have automail anymore. Nobody has that sort of thing over here. Hohenheim made me a prosthetic limb with a covering that looks like real skin. As long as you don't look closely, it looks real."

"I'd like to see that sometime," she said. "What about your hair? Have you cut it?"

He brought a hand up to his ponytail. "No, of course not. It was short when I first got here, but it's long now. As long as before. Right now it's in a ponytail. That seems to be the style around here."

"And how tall are you, exactly?"

Of course. That was the only thing Winry cared about. "Last time I checked, I was a few inches under six feet."

She made a noise that was somewhere between a yelp and a cough. "You're lying, Edward! You've always exaggerated your height!"

"I'm telling you, nobody calls me shorty anymore! Nobody but you!"

She burst into giggles. Edward sat frowning for a moment, and then he cracked a smile. "You never change, do you?"

"Don't be dumb," she said. "Everything changes."

"Please don't." _Please don't change._

"What?"

"Nothing," he said. "Say, Winry…I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead and ask." Her voice was calm, light-hearted. Edward wished he could be the same. As it was, his hands were sweaty again and his throat had that horrible dry feeling.

He laid down on the bed, phone still held to his ear. He stared up at the ceiling, wrestling with the decision of whether to ask her or not. He had to know. But he really didn't want to know. His insides were tying themselves into knots.

The words came out slowly. He practically had to drag them out. "Winry…are you…married?"

"No, Edward." Her reply was instant. "I haven't gotten married yet."

He took a deep breath. The weight sitting on his shoulders seemed to lift a little. Still, the word "yet" bothered him. Edward wished she hadn't said it.

"And you?"

It took him a second to realize what Winry was asking. "Me? No! Definitely not. C'mon, Winry, this is me we're talking about."

"Ha ha, that's true. A woman would have to be crazy to marry a shrimp like you – " She paused. "Oh, but – I guess you're not a shrimp anymore…"

He grinned. "What did you say? Did you change your mind halfway through that sentence?"

"Shut up! You're still going to need a paper bag for that personality of yours! No woman will want you until you get a personality change!"

"I already told you, I'm never getting married," he shot back. "It's stupid, and I'm not doing it."

"Good, I'm glad that's settled."

"You bet it is. And don't bring it up again."

"You're the one who brought it up, you idiot!"


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks passed before he called again. It got to the point where, as soon as the phone rang, Winry would drop whatever she was doing – whether she was working on automail, playing with the dog, or taking a bath – and run to answer it. She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice when it turned out to be a customer, every time.

"Well, it doesn't bother me," said Pinako. "I'm glad you've taken such a liking to answering the phone. My old bones can't get there nearly fast enough."

"I hate it when he does this to me," said Winry. "That little brat hasn't grown up at all. We used to live twenty minutes away from each other and he never found the time to call, so what makes me think that he'll do it when he's in an entirely different universe?"

"Hmm, that is a problem," said Pinako. "You said he's eighteen now? He doesn't sound like it."

"Well, actually, he does. Sound older, I mean. His voice changed. It's much deeper now – I almost didn't recognize him the first time he called."

Granny gave her a funny look.

"What?" asked Winry, blushing. "It just surprised me, okay? Don't look at me like that!"

"You know," said Granny, "the other day young Mr. Hendel was walking around town saying he was going to ask for your hand in marriage."

"Hendel?" cried Winry. "The mayor's son?" Winry couldn't help the disgusted look that rose to her face. "Ugh, he annoys me."

"Why? He seems like a perfectly fine gentleman. In fact…" Granny's face turned solemn. "It's about time you got married."

Winry stared at her grandmother in horror. "No, Granny, no!"

"Why not?"

"He has a horrid personality!"

"What's so horrid about it? All the other girls adore him," said Granny.

"He annoys me," said Winry. "He's always holding doors open for me and standing up when I enter a room, which I can't stand. He calls me "Ms. Winry" and "Madam Winry." He's never been in a fight in his life, he can't stand up for himself, and he's weak and spineless! You know what he spends all day doing? Writing poetry! He sits in that library and writes his little rhymes…" She shuddered.

Granny stared at her like she was from another planet. "It's called being polite. He has manners, etiquette – everything a girl could want! He's sophisticated, upper-class, got lots of book-learning – "

Winry crossed her arms. "Well, that annoys me."

"Well, if you don't like a gentleman like that, then what kind of man do you like?" asked Granny, shaking her head. "Because you can't go your whole life without getting married. A woman just doesn't do something like that."

Winry stared at her feet, gathering her thoughts. "I don't care about book learning. The man I will marry has to be street smart, and tough. He should be able to get hurt and shake it off. He has to be an excellent fighter – I couldn't respect a man who didn't know how to fight. And he has to say what he's thinking – I can't stand these polite "Miss Winry" and "Madame Winry" type of people. Those guys are the butt-kissers of modern society. I like a man who will stand up and speak the honest truth, no matter what people think. He should be confident in himself, and when he gets into an argument, he shouldn't back down. I don't like men who cry or whine. He needs to be brave, and courageous. Clever and cunning. Lots of pride. That's the kind of man I like."

Granny was staring at Winry again. The broom she was holding in her hands was unmoving, as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Winry…you just described Edward Elric."

Winry put a hand to her mouth, horrified. "No, I didn't! You're imagining things!"

Granny raised an eyebrow. "I've been around Ed enough times to know what he's like. You described him exactly. Have you put a lot of thought into this?"

"NO!" She waved her arms. "All that stuff just popped into my head – it has nothing to do with him – "

A sly grin spread across Granny's face. "The man you will marry, eh? It's true, he's very headstrong. And stubborn. He's the opposite of that Hendel boy. Well, well, well!" She clapped her hands together in delight. "To think that my granddaughter and my adopted grandson could end up lovers! Then I might have some great-grandchildren. Your children would be very blonde, don't you think?"

Winry covered her ears and started to sing. In that moment, the phone rang. It took her five whole seconds to notice it, and when she did, she instantly bolted upstairs. She slammed the door to her room and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she breathed. She hoped with every bone in her body it wasn't another goddamn customer.

It was Edward. "I'm sorry I didn't call." His voice was low. Sad, even. "Things have been crazy. I can't even begin to tell you what's happened. But I – I saw Al."

"What?" she gasped.

"It was only for a short amount of time. He managed to get on this side of the gate. He used a suit of armor, ironically enough. I got to talk to him."

She could hear the emotion burning in his voice. Edward wasn't one to show what he was feeling, but Winry knew him especially well. She knew what it meant to him to see his brother again. And she knew that there was more grief in his voice than happiness.

She imagined what it must be like, on that side of the gate. It had to be lonely. So lonely that, if Winry were in that situation, she wouldn't know what to do with herself. At the thought of Edward having to face that pain every day, she started to cry.

"Is it lonely, Ed?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

A long silence. Winry tried to imagine what he was thinking, tried to see the expression on his face. She couldn't. It had been too long. She didn't know what he was thinking anymore.

"I feel like I'm in a dream, Winry. I feel like none of it is real. I don't know how to get out of this place. I don't even know if I can get out. Maybe – maybe you're the dream. Maybe my life with you and Al never happened. You said Al doesn't even remember. He doesn't remember his own brother. Maybe that's enough evidence to show that none of it ever happened – "

"Edward, Edward, don't say that. I promise I'm real. I'm not a dream." She was clutching the phone with hands as white as ghosts. "I'll always be here. I'm not going anywhere. If you start to feel like it was a dream, then just call me. I promise you're not alone. You don't have to be lonely. You have me."

"What about you?" he asked. "Are you lonely?"

His voice was low, and gruff. But Winry knew he really did care about the answer. There was an undercurrent of concern running through his voice. Ed, worrying about me? I must be crazy.

At first she was going to answer lightly. Oh, Ed, I'm fine. I have Granny, I have Den, I'm fine. Don't worry about me.

Things are changing. That's what Edward had said two weeks ago. Things are changing, he had said, in that solemn, quiet voice of his. The words rung through Winry's mind.

What if this was their last conversation?

What if, instead of two weeks, it took him two years to call back? Twenty years? What if he got off the phone, walked outside, and bumped into _that_ woman. The one Winry had seen earlier, in her imagination. The woman that Edward was going to marry.

She couldn't bear the thought of losing his voice. It was the only thing she had to hold onto. Back when they were fifteen, they had been absolutely horrible at talking to each other. They stumbled over their words, left things unspoken, and ended up fuming mad at each other. They were just plain awful at communication. And now it was all they had. They couldn't see each other, they couldn't hold each other, touch each other –

It was all they had left. Winry couldn't bear to lose the little connection they had. Now was not the time for lies, even if they were white ones. She was not fine. And she was lonely. And she wanted to hold Edward more than anything in the world. And she wanted Edward to hold her.

Was it so wrong to say it?

The tears were spilling out of her now. She didn't even bother to hold them in. But she fought to keep her voice strong and steady. She grasped the phone with two hands, holding onto it for all she was worth.

"Would it be wrong of me," she said, speaking slowly, "to say that I miss you?"

He was silent.

"You need…to come back."

His voice was low, like he was whispering in her ear. "I'm trying to, Winry."

"I mean – you need to bring that automail back in one piece, you hear me?" She wiped the tears off her face with a clenched fist. But they kept coming.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "All you care about is automail."

"That's not true. I care about other things." Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wondered if Ed could hear it.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like you."

The words shocked even her. She couldn't believe that they had come out of her. But she knew it was true. They were true, true, true. She had known it all along, but had never admitted it. She could almost feel the touch of his warm skin, the way his hair slid across his jaw, the bright gold of his eyes. The way he walked into a room like he owned it. The way he fought; quick and mean and light on his feet.

Every time he had walked into the automail shop he had looked different. Older, stronger, taller. She remembered fixing his automail. She remembered her hands brushing his shoulders, feeling the muscles there, the strong collarbone. The sloppy ponytail he sometimes wore. The way he walked with his hands in his pockets. The way he used to look at her, with a slight frown on his face, like he was turning over a question in his mind but he couldn't find the answer. That puzzlement, that confusion – Winry had always found that cute. She loved the way he looked at her.

And now…to think she may never see him again. He would grow up in that other world, Germany, and he would meet another woman and Edward would look at her the way he used to look at Winry. And that woman would touch his strong shoulders, and braid his long hair for him, and hold his hand while they walked. And Winry would get no more phone calls, ever. She would never see his face again, and she would never hear his voice. All she would have is memories. Stale, old, and fading memories.

"What do you mean – ?" asked Edward.

"Do you remember the day I found out about my parents?" she interrupted. "The day that man came to the door, and he said – he said they were dead."

"Yeah."

"And I started to cry, and you put a hand on my head and said, "It's okay. I'll always protect you."" She paused, trying to gather her words. "Do you remember that, Ed?"

It took him a second to respond. "Yeah."

"So – " she started sobbing harder " – so where are you now? I need you, and you're not here. Who's going to protect me now?"

He didn't say anything.

"What am I supposed to tell all these boys who come asking for my hand in marriage? How am I supposed to explain to them why I say no every time?" She paused, and when he still didn't say anything, she went on. "I know we're not supposed to actually talk about our feelings to each other. But you asked me if I was lonely, and here's the truth – I am. I'm lonely, because I miss you. All those times I used to hit you, or scream at you, or make fun of you, I guess that was my way of saying – _I love you_."

Winry heard him make a small sound, like a gasp of air. Then there was a loud crash of metal hitting metal. The sound rung in Winry's ears like a never-ending echo.

He had hung up.


	6. Chapter 6

Edward crawled into bed and laid on his side, staring at the wall with unblinking eyes. It was a while before he realized he was still wearing his clothes. He yanked off his shirt and pulled his hair out of its ponytail. Then he laid back down and tried to ignore the thoughts running around in his head.

It has to be a dream. She would never say that. It has to be a dream. I made her up. She's imaginary. I was missing home, so I pretended to get phone calls from a girl who never existed. And Alfonse is going along with it. Or Alfonse is part of the dream, too. He's my only friend here, so I must have made him up. Why else would he look exactly like my brother?

Winry was nothing but a memory. He could never see her, hear her, feel her, or touch her. Her voice, on the other end of the phone, was simply the universe taunting him. The one thing he couldn't have had to be paraded in front of his face. And the worst cosmic joke of them all – Winry saying that she loved him.

She had to be lying. He felt a deep blush creep up his face and settle across the bridge of his nose. The very thought…

Suddenly, a tangle of forgotten childhood memories surfaced in his mind. He remembered the time when Winry had fallen asleep at her work table and Edward had been forced to carry her up to her room...And there was also the time Winry punched a boy because he asked her on a date. When that happened, Edward was sure Winry would never get married. They had talked about it, too. Winry said she hated boys and Edward said he hated girls, and that was that.

He wished he had never called her. The bed sheets rubbing against his bare chest felt like needles stabbing into his skin. The bones in his body felt brittle, like chalk. He felt like the slightest movement would cause him to snap and break into pieces.

Edward ran his fingers through his hair. "Arrggghhh."

He pulled the blankets over himself and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think, or move, or even breathe. Eventually he slid into sleep. There were two words that he murmured over and over to himself, while he tossed and turned in his sleep.

"Al…Winry…"

~0~0~0~

Edward burst out of the gate. One second he was flying through pitch black, and the next he surged into sunny, blue sky. It took him a moment to realize the plane was falling. It spiraled downwards, spitting out black fumes from the tail. Edward was firmly buckled into the seat, but he didn't think that would help him now. He wondered why Alfonse was trying to kill him. It seemed a little unfair, after all Edward had done for him.

The plane hit ground and Edward was yanked in a million directions at once. The seatbelt snapped, and he went flying through the windshield in a shower of broken glass. He blacked out for a few seconds, and when he came to, he found he was lying in the rubble.

He shakily pushed himself up to a sitting position. The smoke felt thick in his lungs, and he coughed.

"Edward."

There was a flash of gold in the corner of his vision – Edward looked up.

His eyes drank her in. The curl of her fingers against her palm, the swish of hair around her shoulders, the long eyelashes that were stretched open in wonder. Her eyes were as wide as stars, staring at him, flashing bright in the sunlight.

Winry.

"Where've you been?"

The weight that had been pressing on Edward's shoulders for so long lifted, leaving him light and weightless. Suddenly he could breathe again. Suddenly, he could smile.

"Winry..." He opened his mouth to say more. "Winr – OOOF."

She swept him into a hug. Her arms circled around his neck, pulled him closer, pressed him against her for a dizzying, breath-taking moment. Edward was acutely aware of her breath on his ear, her hands clutching his jacket, and the feel of her skin pressed against his cheek. This was Winry all right. Warm, soft, and very much alive. It hadn't been a dream. It was real.

Then it hit him – it was really happening. Which meant, Winry was really hugging him. Not a dream. Real.

A deep blush spread across his face.

"Welcome…home," she said.

Edward blinked. He was finding it hard to breathe, even though she wasn't squeezing that tightly. "Yeah…"

Winry pulled away. She kept her hands firmly pressed against his shoulders, staring him down, eyes ablaze with blue. "All right. Goodbye."

She stood up, brushed herself off, and walked away.

Edward watched for a few seconds. His heart was pounding away, his throat felt tight. He was waiting for everything to turn black and for him to wake up in his bed, back in Germany, back in that place he thought he'd never escape.

But, no.

His vision was perfectly clear. The smoke around him felt damp and thick. The pavement beneath his legs felt solid. And the sound of Winry's footsteps getting further and further away rung in his ears, blocking out all other sound.


	7. Chapter 7

"Winry!" He ran after her. He forgot he'd just been in a plane crash, and his legs gave out under him, leaving him sprawling across the rough pavement. He scrambled to his feet again. He ran after her, willing himself to be strong, willing his body to go forward.

Winry saw him, and she broke into a run, too. Away from him. Down the street, past the buildings, her boots clacking against the cobblestones. She had a head start on him, by about five hundred feet. The bright blonde of her hair was getting further and further away.

He wouldn't let that happen. He was taller than her. His long legs pumped beneath him, faster, faster, faster. Within a few seconds, he was right behind her. He stretched out an arm and grabbed a fistful of her coat. Winry screeched to a halt, but Edward had built up too much momentum, and he found himself flying forward. His hand still gripped her coat, so she stumbled forward, too.

They tumbled across the cobblestones. Edward cushioned himself with his automail arm, which made a resounding CLANK. Winry landed on her side, and her elbow smacked the ground. Edward was sure she would turn around and start screaming at him, but instead she sat up with her hands pressed to her face.

It took him a moment to realize she was crying.

He scrambled to his knees and sat in front of her. He took her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. "Winry, don't cry. I mean it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not crying about my elbow!" Her eyes were wet, but angry. She thrust his hands away. "I said goodbye, Ed! That means – go away! That means – don't follow me!"

His mind was whirling. He was used to seeing Winry angry – in fact, that was how she was 99% of the time – but she had never told him to go away. Never, not once, in all the years he had known her. Even if they were both raving mad, they still liked to be around each other. They were like family. Family didn't tell family to go away.

"I don't understand," he said.

She fixed him with frost-bitten eyes. "You hung up on me. I told you my feelings, and _you hung up_. That was your way of saying how you felt, wasn't it? Well, I got the message, Edward! I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and you said no. So here you are, in Amestris again, and I'm happy to see that you're back, but I think we should go our separate ways." The tears streamed down her face. She looked so heart-breakingly sad that Edward found it hard to meet her gaze.

"We'll always be family," continued Winry, "you know, like brother and sister. And I really am so happy to see you back. I missed you so much. But Edward – "

_Don't say it. Don't say it_. He squeezed his eyes shut.

" – you have your life to live, and I have mine. So this is goodbye." Her face was stained with dirt and tears. She rubbed a hand across her face and stood up.

Edward stood up, too. The top of her head came up to his jaw – he was a foot taller. He grabbed her hand. He used his left hand, the real one, so he could feel the touch.

"I made you cry," he said. "Damn it."

She sniffled.

"But I won't anymore. Not again." Edward took a deep breath. "I don't want to go separate ways. I don't want you to leave. I want…to be with you…you know what I mean?"

She frowned. "Just say what you mean, Ed."

"Fine," Edward said. "I hung up on you because I didn't know what to say. I'm not sure I'll ever know what to say. I'm not good with words. Arrgggh, I hate talking. I hate having to stand here and say what I'm feeling." He rubbed a hand through his hair, but he kept his other hand firmly gripped around hers. "How do I say this?"

Her lips slipped into a small smile. "Just say it."

Edward clenched his jaw. "No. I won't say it. I hate talking. All we do is talk and talk, Winry. So…I'm not gonna say it."

Her face fell. She looked away, started to pull her hand out of his.

Edward leaned down and kissed her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her closer. She was stiff, hands brought up to protect herself – and then she melted into him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She tasted strong, sweet. Kissing Winry was a thousand times better than arguing with Winry. Kissing Winry was a million times more enjoyable than getting hit by Winry. Although…that wasn't so bad either.


	8. Chapter 8

She tugged on his ponytail, gently. He pulled back from the kiss, but kept his arms around her.

"Ed!" She put a hand over her lips and stared at him in horror.

He drew back, instantly panicked. "I – I'm sorry – I didn't mean to – OWW!"

Something smacked into his forehead. He stumbled backwards, holding his head. A small, silver wrench clattered against the cobblestones. He held it up.

"Did you hit me?"

"Y – yes, I did!" She snatched the wrench out of his hand. "And I'll hit you again unless you let me have a look at that automail! I'm sure you've broken it, haven't you?"

Edward realized that was her way of changing the subject. He dutifully rolled up his sleeve so she could look at his arm. She knelt down next to him, pulled a toolbox seemingly out of nowhere, and clicked it open. Inside was a steel arm, gleaming in the light, shining and new. Edward admired it, gliding a finger down its cold metal plate.

"Just like the old days, huh?" he asked, grinning at Winry.

"With a few changes, though. I've been studying automail mechanics, trying to get better…I wanted to make the best possible one for you. If you're done growing, you should be able to wear this one for a long time."

"I'm not nearly done growing yet," he laughed. "I'm trying to get past six feet!"

She conked him on the head with her wrench. But it was a gentle tap, not very painful. "Don't get any taller!" she said. "It's a pain to adjust the automail, and besides – I don't want to have to stand on tiptoe to kiss y – "

She blushed furiously. Edward stared at her with wide eyes. Then she hit him on the head again. This time, it was painful.

"OWW!"

"Don't be a whiner." She began to tinker with his shoulder, trying to detach the automail arm.

"Don't be violent!" he said, rubbing his head.

Winry ignored him. After a while she said, "Do you remember, when we were little, and you asked to marry me?"

Edward twitched. "Uh, yeah…I remember. But we were five, okay? It doesn't count."

She was carefully avoiding his gaze. "And do you remember…what I said?"

He paused a while before answering. "You said you don't like guys who are shorter than you." His heart started to pound in his chest again. He wondered if he would ever be able to keep his heartbeat down around Winry. But he knew it was now or never. He had to ask. Sometimes actions spoke louder than words, but sometimes…

Sometimes you had to say it out loud. Sometimes you had to throw your feelings out there. Sometimes…you had to get a move on, or you would miss out on the things that were really important.

This was a million times harder than battling a Homunculus. Edward closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and gathered his courage.

Edward turned to her, and met her gaze. They stared at each other, heartbeats going by, for one long moment after another. Her hands stopped moving on his shoulder, and instead rested there, pressed against his skin.

"Will you marry me?"

She gasped. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder. "Ed, tell me you're not joking."

He grinned. "Not joking." He leaned closer toward her, his nose inches away from hers. His face became serious again. "Marry me," he breathed.

She bowed her head and started to cry. Pale blue tears dripped onto the cobblestones.

"You never stop crying, do you?" he asked.

She smacked him on the head. "And who do you think is the one making me cry?"

He laughed. The sound bubbled out of him, and it surprised him. It had been so long since he'd laughed. He laughed harder.

"Winry…" He put a hand on the top of her head. She collapsed against his chest, pressed her face to his shirt, and cried. Edward held her.

"Please tell me that's a yes."

"I'm tired of talking," Winry said. "All we do is talk, talk, talk. So I'm not gonna say it."

"You won't say it?"

"I won't say it."

She kissed him. Their lips fit together easily, like breathing. Edward kissed her, his ears buzzing, his heart pounding. Talking was overrated. Talking on the phone was even worse. This…this was amazing.

He and Winry…somehow, they made things work. Just because they didn't speak their feelings, that didn't mean they didn't have them. Edward had very strong feelings. And now, he was finally getting to show them.

*O*O*O*

**[Hey, it's me again – if you liked the story, drop me a note! As for the ending – I know that in the movie Edward goes back to Germany and leaves Winry behind, but let's just pretend that they find another way to break the gate and Edward stays in Amestris with Winry…I like a happy ending better than a sad one! Oh, and I need some more writing prompts, so if you've got an idea for a good FanFic, I'm willing to take requests. Thanks! :D]**


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